When I first moved to my new neighborhood, I was fifteen, and in desperate need for some money. The neighbors didn't know me that well, but I was the only teenager within miles, therefore I took babysitting as a hobby. For the record, the following is true to every last detail.
The first women that called was Mrs. Harper, the widow a few blocks down. She explained that she needed me on Wednesday night for her eight-year-old son Ryan. I was to be there at six and remember to read the instruction list that she would be leaving on the kitchen table. Who knew that would become the complication of everything.
There was a note on the front door when I arrived, explaining that Ryan was at a friends house and would be home shortly. Letting myself in, the note was right where Mrs. Harper said it would be. My hand barely touched the papers rim when I heard a voice "Who are you?". The little boy with red curly hair startled me. I smiled, "You must be Ryan, I'm Meghan, your babysitter", he didn't respond, I thought at the time that he was a regular little boy, who was shy around strangers. Forgetting about the list on the kitchen table, I fed Ryan, watched a movie with him, read a story, and said goodnight. Thats when something didn't feel right, but like everyone else, at first, I didn't have a clue on what it could be. I was on the last step of the staircase when yet another little boy, whom this time had on a shirt and had brown hair, entered the house.
"Who are you?" I asked.
"I'm Ryan Harper, you must be Meghan" he smiled.
"I'm sorry...but" my stuttering sent me running through the living room to the kitchen table where I nearly ripped the piece of paper. The first thing written, "Ryan will not be home until eight", thus it was seven fifty-nine. Then who's the other boy?I whispered to myself, as the two of us went upstairs to the only room I had been in. The bed was empty, the sheets had been used, but nobody was in sight.
"Oooohhhh" the brown-haired boy next to me gasped, "he does exist". "Who?" I asked. "Thomas, he was the little boy that lived in the family before my Mommy and I, Mommy told me that the angels took him to Heaven" answered Ryan.
In conclusion, I don't baby-sit anymore.
Contact me here: email@example.com